Last Stand
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: CI5 agents take on more than they bargained for and are pinned down. Warning: death is in the air


There had been a shootout at, ironically, a gun shop. Three people had been injured (condition unknown) including a policeman who'd been first on the scene. George Cowley had received an SOS. The local force knew Cowley's agents were constantly armed and well trained, so they'd urgently pushed the matter in CI5's direction. Bodie and Doyle picked up the relayed orders as they were closest to the direction the gunmen had fled. Jax and MacLeod were not far behind them.

As Bodie pushed the car towards 60, Doyle checked his gun and stuffed two spare mags in his pocket from the glove compartment. Finding a straight stretch of road Bodie, eyes still glued to the tarmac, slipped his own gun from its holster and handed it to his partner. Doyle silently checked it and, waiting for another clear stretch, handed it back. He stuffed three mags in Bodie's pocket.

"That's the lot," he said calmly, listening to the radio that crackled through the gang's latest position.

Bodie continued concentrating. The partners were in tune with each other. Their minds were whirling with possibilities of how to bring the gang down without serious loss of life. Adrenalin was pumping. At last they spotted their quarry as they hurtled through the dangerously narrow streets of Bow.

"There!" Doyle yelled, pointing ahead.

But Bodie had already seen a car streaking ahead and down a side street. Doyle asked Control where agents 3.2 and 6.3 were. They had fallen behind, but still following. Few drivers could keep up with Bodie.

The gang turned their car off the main road and bumped across wasteland, until falling into a huge pothole. They abandoned the car and were out and off before Bodie caught up with them. Doyle had just enough time to radio in their final position before they too were out and off in pursuit. It was open country; a dangerous place to be. One of the gang stumbled on the uneven ground. His comrades didn't stop for him. As Bodie and Doyle ran forward, shots rang out – fortunately they too were out of range, but they flattened themselves to the ground in any case, both taking a shot at the abandoned gangster. They didn't miss. They heard a car approaching from behind and hoped fervently that it was Jax and MacLeod. The agents tentatively got up and looked back. The car was wonderfully familiar. Bodie radioed through to them to take the left flank. They moved in.

The police reports were confused. There were either three or four gunmen they thought. "Any more," Cowley had commented dryly, "and they wouldn't fit in the car." One against one were odds CI5 preferred. The agents were easing their way towards the old factory which loomed ahead. There was little cover for them, but they knew how to approach with caution. Without warning, a salvo of shots rang out from the old building. It seemed the snipers hadn't got clear sight of their prey; the shots were all over the place. One thing agents did learn as they flattened themselves back into the dirt – there were certainly more than four of them now. Their flight to the factory wasn't random, then. They were meeting up with their cronies here. The agents swore, but continued their cautious advance. Doyle radioed in to HQ to say that they were pinned down and needed urgent backup. They'd almost reached the factory when another volley came their way. This time the agents felt that their prey were within range and retaliated, still sneaking forward. Doyle saw one sniper lean through the window to have a go at Jax. Doyle didn't miss. Another one down … There was an exchange over to the left as Jax and MacLeod joined in on their side. While the gang were busy with them, Bodie and Doyle took the advantage. Tentatively raising themselves up, they could get a better shot. They hit at least two, but an unseen gunman got a clearer aim and Bodie went down with a yell and a curse. Spurred on, Doyle fired rapidly. There were more casualties on the snipers' side. Jax and MacLeod were at the factory now and keeping them busy and hemmed in. Doyle took the chance to wriggle over to his mate. Bodie was barely conscious and in serious pain. Flat out, he looked down at his useless arm. Blood was pumping out at an alarming rate. Doyle tore off Bodie's tie and undid his top button.

"No time for this," Bodie protested.

Doyle ignored him and Bodie had to stifle a cry as Doyle frantically tightened a tourniquet. He knew it wouldn't be enough - not in the long run – but it was all he had to offer. He knew this gang were going to fight to the last man.

Doyle squeezed Bodie's shoulder. "Don't go away, Sunshine. I'll be back before you know it."

Before the brave lie could be debated, Doyle was gone. All Bodie could do was watch him as he crawled on his belly towards the centre of the action, a clip of ammunition clamped between his teeth.

"Cowley made a soldier of you after all," Bodie thought fondly. "Somewhere between the civilian services and the military are us and George Cowley. He filled the gap. You and me, Ray, against these bastards."

Doyle had nearly reached the main door. He had his back against the wall and straining to see through the crack of the doorframe for his target. Over on his left side, a gunman crept unseen.

"Ray!" Bodie yelled.

Doyle was confused at the direction of the warning. That split second of 'where?' was used to advantage. Bodie watched helplessly as a gun was raised and fired at near point blank range. Doyle went down before he could raise his gun and work out what had just happened. The sniper was off in an instant and heading back into the factory. Doyle slipped sideways, leaving a bloody trail down the wall. The gun clattered out of his nerveless fingers. He vaguely focussed on his partner and reached out for him. His eyes never left Bodie's. Bodie's lever left his.

"Ray! Ray!"

But Doyle was deaf to the world now. Bodie saw the light fading from those bright, intelligent green eyes as an oil lamp flickers and grows dim until the final ember dies. Bodie saw all this and understood.

"You bastard" he yelled in desperation, "you said you'd come back for me!" But the words just came out as a rasping gasp. Bodie's throat contracted, making words and swallowing an act he could no longer perform. He stretched his good arm towards his friend but was too far away to reach him. He heard an exchange of fire in the distance and thought, disinterestedly, that his comrades were still keeping the gang busy.

"Ray," he said again, with great sadness. "We said we'd go together. You know I can't do this on my own."

He knew that his words were locked within his mind, but nothing mattered any more. Then he reached for the arm he could no longer feel and groped blindly for the knot. Quite deliberately he released the tourniquet as hot tears burned down his checks, his body shuddering. They were in this to the end; brothers in arms. ' _Till death do us join'_.


End file.
